Page 75 of Prey for You

Gerald didn’t take his eyes off me, but he must have forgotten he was talking to a convicted felon who’d done hard time. Did he think I would back down from astaring competition?

Eventually, though, my lawyer cleared his throat, and Gerald made his excuses and left.

I was pissed. She’d had high hopes that Gerald would see through the bullshit to the truth. She’d made me hopeful. Looked like he was just one more pearl clutcher—except, with a doctorate.

“Sam, you can’t talk to people like that. It all sounds crazy. We get it, but you have to be more careful with your words.”

I sighed. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“That’s the problem, man. Even if it’s real, even if it’s good, sometimes it still needs to stay in the dark.”

But that was what I’d been saying. Couldn’t they see that?

December

(Two months before the trial)

23. Something’s Up

~ SAM ~

Every time the guys came to my house there was always a moment that the reality of my new life smacked me between the eyes.

Years ago, if there’d been five felons in my house, we would have been in the active commission of a crime, or planning one.

But when my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I had to get up from the circle of chairs in my living room, I had a second of looking at these dudes—all tatted, fit, pierced, and with dark history.

Every single one sitting with his head bowed, face in his hands or eyes on the carpet, murmuring his agreement while another brotherprayed.

And I was one of them.

It was stunning how different life looked from this side of everything that had happened. They all knew about my charges. They all knew what I’d been doing.

They’d had some choice words for me when they learned I’d eloped with Bridget, but we were past that now. So when I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw it was her calling—odd for her to do that in the middle of the afternoon—I left them there, praying together, and hurried outside.

“Babe, hi! You okay?” I whispered into the phone as I slipped out the back door to my yard that desperately needed to be mown. And weeded. And pruned…

“Hey,” she said and her voice was too high. Then she went quiet.

I waited, but she didn’t speak. My chest tightened. “Bridget?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on?”

“Not a lot, I just… I was thinking about you and wanting you and I wished you were here and I thought maybe if you weren’t busy we could turn the video on and make some baby jelly together.”

I blinked. And smiled. But before I could tell her what was going on in my house—notthe time for phone sex—something about her tone made my instincts prickle.

Staying away from each other was killing both of us—especially her. I thought she’d gotten a little better in November. But now it was December and she seemed to be spiraling again.

And then it occurred to me why she’d never called during this meeting before. Because I scheduled it during her appointments with Gerald so we’d be busy at the same time.

“Bridget…” I said quietly.

“Turn your phone on so I can see you. Please?”

“I can’t right now. I mean—”

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